The Lead of the Setting Sun
by Principles of Magic
Summary: It's a race against time to bring a little girl home. Full details inside.
1. Titlecard

Hi all,

I'm back (for a limited time only) to present a bit of a sequel/a bit of a teleplay featuring favorites from Freaks in the Middle/Like Real People Do. This act-by-act mystery/short story has been almost completely adapted from the Season 1x13 episode of _Criminal Minds: Beyond Borders_ called "Paper Orphans," in my opinion a fantastic hour of TV. Story title comes from "Home," by Aron Wright as featured in the original CM episode. A significant amount of the characters, plot, and even dialogue has been taken directly from this episode and reworked for the TO universe, meaning you don't need to have watched any _Criminal Minds_ before reading as there are no CM characters in this story. You may, however, want to revisit the last chapter/epilogue of LRPD just to catch up with the Mikaelsons.

This story takes place a few months after the end of that story. This story is also mercifully much shorter. :)

I will be posting an act every Monday. Follow for updates. Here's a blurb as you wait!

 **Aidan Thompson faces his biggest crisis as mayor when the young daughter of a City Councilman is kidnapped during a visit to the Ninth Ward. Also, Hope struggles to start a new chapter of her life and Leah and Elijah send Faith off to college.**

See you soon,

Principles of Magic


	2. Act 1

**Here we go, folks! Glad to have you along for another exciting adventure. Let's hope this one has a happy ending...**

* * *

The street stretches on ahead of them, right through the heart of the Ninth Ward. On every side Emily DeFleur sees shops with boarded windows, abandoned homes, and condemned buildings. But also signs of life. Friends greeting friends, family welcoming family. People living, and thriving, despite everything the city has gone through.

 _From the waters we shall raise_. It's the motto on the back of her shirt. _Make a difference_ , the front says. _Give NOLA a helping hand._

Emily fixes her ponytail and wipes the day's sweat off her face. The sun is going down and it's time to put the girls to bed too. Hand in hand, they giggle loudly, singing in their bumbled school French as they dance through the puddles in the road.

"Slow down, girls! _Ralentissez_ _!_ "

"No, Mama, we're racing!" they laugh.

"Shh! It's late. Go. Go," she shoos them. "Go to Papa. He is waiting in the car."

Her husband waits in the idling van at the end of the road in a cap and a matching volunteer shirt. He laughs and beeps the horn twice, waving to her through the window.

"Come on, Emily. Just scoop 'em up!"

"They haven't listened to a word we've said all week," she sighs, still smiling.

"Can you blame them?" her husband says. "They're excited to have a little brother."

"They really do adore him," Emily nods, remembering the boy's smile. "Did you see how Samuel wouldn't go to sleep till he kissed them both good night? It was so sweet. I wish the orphanage would let him stay with us."

"I know; they are just being protective. Samuel is a special boy and the Regent has her rules. Just two more days, though, and then he'll be ours forever."

They get the girls all buckled in safe. They are playing a new game now, pointing out the window of the car and racing to name everything they see.

" _Lumière_ ," says Abby.

" _Lumière_ ," says Grace.

" _La Lune_!"

" _La Lune_!"

Abby, the baby, points to her plush wolf toy.

"What's he?" she asks Grace.

"I don't know," says her sister.

The girls laugh. Their parents laugh. Emily's husband pulls onto the road, turning with adoration to his wife.

"Sam's little accent is amazing, isn't it? I wish he could hold onto it, but he'll probably lose it once we get him into school."

"Which is why it's so important for us to always remind him of that," says Emily. "French, Creole, and magic are part of Samuel's foundation, and I want to honor it. So can we come back here as often as we can?" she asks her husband.

" _Bien sur_ ," he nods, and smiles when his wife takes his hand. "I love you, Mrs. DeFleur."

"You're not so bad yourself," she smiles.

The girls suddenly shriek.

"I won!"

"What?! No, you didn't!"

"Yes, I did!" Grace insists. She is red in the face. Mother intervenes.

"Oh, no, girls - another tie?"

"Can we go back to Sammy's so he can play with us too?"

"Yes, please!" Grace begs, bouncing in her seat. "I want to play with Sammy!"

"Sorry, girls. Gonna have to wait till tomorrow," Dad says.

At first Emily thinks Abby is crying. She hears sniffling and turns in her seat.

"Are your allergies bothering you again, boo? Do you need a tissue?"

"Yes, mama. My nose..."

"Okay, okay," Emily nods. She digs into her purse to find a tissue.

"Honey, there's some allergy meds in the glove box," says her husband.

"But those are adult strength - "

"It's fine. Just give her half."

Emily reaches into the glove box in front of her and rattles the bottle of pills.

"Here chew this, sweetie," she says, passing Abby the medicine. Abby squirms.

"Mama, but it takes bad..."

"I know, boo. I'm sorry. When we get back to the hotel I'll find you something better. Something so you can sleep."

"I just want it to be tomorrow now," whines Abby. "Now so we can see Sammy!"

"I know," her mother sighs. "Boo, I know. I do."

* * *

Hope always wishes the night could last forever when Leah and Elijah stay for dinner.

"I cannot _believe_ we ate all that," sighs Leah, pushing her plate away. She looks over the meal they've just demolished.

"Yeah, well, who knew that Elijah had a dozen signature dishes?" Aidan laughs. He starts to clear the table. "Thanks for helping me out in the kitchen, by the way. I was stuck in meetings until six and hadn't even planned out the first course."

"It was our pleasure," Elijah smiles. "Leah and I were delighted you wished to host us for a weekend in your wonderful new home."

"Just repaying the honor," says Hope. "Though you have to invite us up to Boston again soon. Your wedding in December seems like ages ago."

"And yet to this day I am _still_ finding confetti in my hair," Leah jokes. "Here let me help with the plates."

"No, I've got them, don't worry," Hope stands. "You two sit. Enjoy yourselves. Make room for dessert."

"There's dessert?" Leah groans. "As in more food?"

"Lots of it," Aidan laughs. "Hope's become _obsessed_ with baking."

"Considering some of the other obsessions in this family, that's certainly a welcomed one," Elijah chuckles. "Which reminds me: when are Niklaus and Hayley back from...doing what again?"

"Trainspotting in Wales," Hope says. "Which is either code for something I'd rather remain ignorant about or my parents have gone full-on retiree. I swear they don't know what to do with themselves with all the peace in New Orleans these days."

"Which is all thanks to Mr. Mayor here," Leah adds, toasting her brother. She drains her glass.

"Is that a sign for more wine?" Aidan offers.

"I wish," she says. "But we can't stay unfortunately."

"Are you sure you two have to leave so soon?" Hope begs. "It's so rare I get to see you back here in New Orleans."

"We need to be on the road first thing," Elijah apologizes. "Faith has school Monday morning and senior examinations this week."

"And we really should be picking her up about now from her volunteer shift at Holy Cross," Leah adds, coming to her feet. Elijah stands from the table with her. He takes Aidan's hand in a strong grip.

"Thank you for hosting. You're doing well for yourself, and the people of this city are lucky to have you as their mayor."

"Fingers crossed I won't let them down."

* * *

Hope starts on the dishes after saying her final goodbyes. She frowns, still alone at the sink moments later. Aidan is on his phone.

"Really, hon? A little help here? Dishes aren't gonna wash themselves."

"Yeah, all right, at your service, at your service," he nods. He casts one last glance at his inbox on the screen. Work, man. It never ends. Especially with the start of re-election season just around the corner.

Another email comes in...Ping!

"Aidan!" Hope snaps. "Focus!"

"Okay, okay, okay. You wash. I dry."

Hope has never seen anyone so anxiously grab a dishtowel.

"Is everything alright?" she asks.

"Completely," he says quickly. "No, really. Relax, babe. Pass me a dish."

Hope looks at her husband but passes him the plate. He dries it so quickly it's still wet when he puts it away.

"You know what, I'll take care of this," she tells him. "Go do what needs to be done."

Aidan kisses her appreciatively. "I love you, you know that, right?"

She does, but she also worries. Can things stay like this forever? Hope figures now's not a good time for them to talk, no matter how important the news is.

* * *

"Daddy, can you tell me a story?" Abby pines. It is late. Her father has her tucked tightly into her hotel bed.

"Okay. Has to be a quick one though." It's been an exhausting day.

"Tell me the story about the rougarou."

Owen DeFleur scratches his head.

"The rougarou? Oh, the _loup-garou,_ darling! Of course! Alright, where did I leave off?"

"He was alone in the forest."

"And he couldn't find his family, right?"

"Right. He was scared," Abby says. "But that is when he found another rougarou, and they bought a little rougarou house together. And they had little rougarou children. And they loved them very much."

"And they still do," her father whispers. "The end."

Owen DeFleur kisses his daughter and hands her the plush wolf she loves so very much.

"He will keep you safe," he promises her. "So sleep tight, my dearest Abby."

* * *

The next morning, Hope sits across from her husband as he answers emails over breakfast. Is now a good time?

She continues to wonder, staring into her orange juice. No mimosas today.

* * *

Elijah and Faith are arguing about colleges before they've even left New Orleans.

"I think you will need a little more crimson and white in your wardrobe."

"That's Harvard, Dad. Tulane's olive and blue."

"Yes, and it's a lot farther away."

"Says the man who travels the globe. It's not like I'm the first kid to ever go to college out-of-state."

"You are in this family," Elijah says, which makes Leah snort with laughter.

He decelerates, looking over at her sternly.

"I'm surprised you're not on my side in this."

"You know Faith can take care of herself, right?" she replies.

"I know New Orleans offers much which can tempt a young lady from her studies."

"I'm sitting right here," Faith reminds her father. "And it's not like I can't get myself into _plenty_ of trouble in Cambridge."

Elijah frowns. Deeply. If he wasn't immortal fatherhood would have killed him by now. And though Leah and he were now joined by civil union that did not mean they always saw eye-to-eye when it came to parenting Faith. Leah, however, could be very persuasive, even when it was in her own quiet way. She puts her hand on his arm to urge him to relax and suddenly his tone has changed.

He looks up at his daughter's reflection in the mirror.

"I just want you to be happy."

"I am, Dad. But I'd be happier if you trusted me."

Leah suddenly removes her hand from Elijah to answer his buzzing phone. When the call IDs as Aidan, she puts the conversation on speaker.

"You're reached Elijah Mikaelson's better half. Miss me already?"

"Yes, in fact, but I'm afraid that's not why I'm calling. I need your help. Bad."

Elijah and Leah share an anxious look. They continue to listen carefully.

"I received a call this morning," Aidan explains. "A personal call, though I'm starting to think he should have called the police first."

"Wait. Who should have?" Leah leans in.

"Owen DeFleur."

"The City Councilman?" Elijah frowns.

"And Chief of Staff for my re-election campaign. He and his wife Emily woke up two hours ago to a complete nightmare. Their 4-year-old daughter Abby was taken from her bed."

"From her own house?"

"Not exactly. The DeFleurs have been staying at a hotel in the Ninth Ward."

"That's not exactly a popular vacation spot," Leah knew.

"They weren't sightseeing. The DeFleurs have been working with Habitat for Humanity to rebuild the Lower Ninth after Hurricane Arnold. Like I said, these are good people. Owen and Emily have been doing outreach programs in the Ninth for the last decade, but this trip was to adopt a 2-year-old named Samuel."

"Was there any sort of ransom note?" Elijah asks.

"Nothing. But the family is prominent, and political, so this could be linked to my campaign. And on top of all that - "

"Let me guess: Owen and Emily DeFleur are Crescent wolves."

"How'd you know?" Aidan's voice drops.

"Because nothing is easy," Elijah says, looking grim. "Not in New Orleans."

"Well, that's why I need your help. I need people I can trust on this."

Leah brings the phone closer.

"I've run with some rough crowds in college. Been to the Ninth. Aidan, there's some folks that way you don't want to upset. Witches you don't want to anger."

"I don't want trouble, Leah. I just want a little girl back in her parents' arms. ASAP. There's been reports in Baton Rouge of werewolf trafficking."

"What's trafficking?" Faith asks innocently.

"Selling people as chattel," her father says.

"Yeah, mostly kids going missing from poverty-stricken packs," Aidan adds. "Hunters sell them to rich creeps who collect supernatural children, especially kids from rare bloodlines. The heir to the Paxon wolves was kidnapped just last year. Never found."

The car goes quiet.

"What's the window?" Elijah asks. He is already turning the car around. "How far of a head-start do the kidnappers have on us?"

"About eight hours. The family went to bed after 10:00. When they woke up at 6:00, little Abby was gone."

"Have your people narrow that down."

"I don't have people," Aidan says. His frustration comes through clear. "With something like this, I only have family."

"We're on our way," Leah assures him. "Tell the family to hang in there."

She ends the call and stares up at Elijah. So much for going home.

* * *

And that's Act 1! So what do you guys think happened to Abby? And why would someone take a little werewolf girl? Also, what's up with Hope and Aidan? Be sure to follow for updates and let me know your thoughts and theories in a review! Until next time...


	3. Act 2

It's an hour later when they gather for a briefing. Aidan is pacing around his work desk, Sunday morning in full suit and tie. So much for a day off. Outside City Hall there are already news vans. Just two, or three - but soon a horde for sure.

Their presence makes Aidan visibly nervous.

The others just watch as he talks, then paces, then continues to talk, pausing only long enough to answer their mounting questions. Leah and Elijah stand to one side commenting and not-commenting and nodding in unison. Between them Faith sits on the corner of Aidan's desk, eyeing the yellow sticky notes which decorate his monitor.

Across the table Hope is worrying her lip. Her husband's agitation is infectious.

"Aidan, please. Just relax. Take a breath," she assures him. "We'll find Abby."

"I won't breathe easy until we do."

"Then we need a plan. And fast," Leah says. "Has anyone thought about going to the police?"

"The police?"

"Yes, Aidan, the police. You know, the people whose job it is the solve cases just like this."

"Cases like what exactly? Leah, you have to remember, this isn't just any ordinary kidnapping, and Abby isn't some ordinary kid. I'd have better luck getting the Faction involved than a bunch of trigger-happy humans. The police aren't exactly sensitive to cases involving supernaturals."

"He's right," Hope nods. "This could be bigger than the humans can handle. And if we go to the police then the media will grab the story and make our job that much harder."

"Not to mention I'll have the entire Crescent clan jumping down my throat wanting answers," Aidan adds.

"Then if we're going in alone let's at least not go in blind," Leah thinks. "Do we have a timetable of events? I imagine the kidnapper probably waited a few hours before grabbing Abby to guarantee that everyone was sleeping."

"Agreed," Hope nods, starting to take notes. She has Faith pass her a blank yellow sticky. "Even the most exhausted parents may not fall asleep right away, so we should say the actual abduction occurred at 12:00 midnight, 1:00 A.M. at the earliest. That takes us down to a five or six hour window, which is better, but still gives our kidnapper a significant head start."

Aidan moves to the window and pulls back the blinds. There are more vans parked outside now. Staked out. Waiting.

"How long have the DeFleurs been staying in the Ninth?" his wife asks.

"Uh, 12 days," he calculates. He steps away from the blinds. "Owen's been pooling all his sick leave."

"That's long enough to establish a pattern," Elijah speaks. "And a Crescent family in witch territory would raise some suspicion in the Ninth."

Aidan seems to breathe easier at the thought.

"Then maybe that's our first lead - the witches. Let's check if any of the hotel staff are members of the local coven."

"And Leah and I will head directly to the hotel and question them," Hope volunteers. Leah goes pale. Leah hates witches.

"Or I can be useful in some other way," she hopes.

"What do I do?" Faith steps in. "Please don't make me stay in the car."

"She can come with us," Hope advocates. "The DeFleurs have another daughter. Faith can watch her while we investigate."

"Then if you ladies are certain of your tasks," Elijah says, "I'll remain here if that is alright. See what I can do about the press outside."

Aidan nods, grateful. The reporters are already pitching cameras on the lawn.

* * *

There is someone waiting to welcome them when they arrive in the Ninth Ward. Aidan has to drag Leah from the car when she realizes who it is.

"Now I know the two of you have some history..."

"Understatement," Leah frowns. She is glaring daggers at Marcel Gerard.

"Okay, understatement acknowledged," Aidan relents, "but get over it, Leah, please. There's a little girl missing and her life may depend on you two playing nice."

"If it makes a difference," Marcel says, "Elijah called me in himself. No one knows this part of the city better than me."

Leah bites her tongue, and agrees to cooperate. She does, however, make a mental note to have a strong word with Elijah.

"I see you've assembled the A-team," Marcel quips to Aidan, looking smugly between Hope and Leah. "Who's the kid though?"

"This is Faith," Leah frowns. "And no sudden moves, Marcel. Don't think I've forgotten you have a record of kidnapping yourself."

"Bygones," Aidan reminds them. "At least for today. Now Marcel, what have you learned from the parents?"

"Not much, they'll only talk to you. Come on, the DeFleurs are inside."

Marcel leads the group up the path. The hotel is quaint; a bed and breakfast type place. Instead of glass windows there are only shudders, Aidan notes. Few staff. Low-security. Posted all around the lobby are photocopied flyers: _Abigail DeFleur, 4._ Please - _Have you see this girl?_

Hope tears one down, her heart in her throat.

"Wait, did the DeFleurs make these?"

"Yeah," Marcel nods. "They haven't wasted much time since she's been gone. They keep mentioning a case about a Madeline? Ring any bells?"

"Madeline Paxon," Aidan sighs. "Werewolf girl. Almost the same age when she was abducted by poachers."

"When was this?"

"Nearly a year to the day."

"And what happened to her?"

"No one knows. She was never found. Then again the Paxon wolves aren't even close to having the resources that we do. The question then again is why risk taking a child from the most powerful werewolf pack in America?"

"Maybe because you're also the largest," Marcel explains. "In-fighting and intrigue is nothing new among packs that grow too big, I should know. I've seen enough nastiness among the Crescents to last a lifetime. Assassination attempts on rival alphas, putting hits on entire families, leaving kids orphans left and right..."

"But kidnapping?"

"Sure, it happens. Just think: two bloodlines in the same pack. Both have kids with claims to the crown. But one bloodline is willing to do anything so their kid comes out on top. So they wipe out the competition."

"That's horrific," Hope gasps.

"It's the truth," Marcel insists. "The wolf kids, the ones who get taken, they're called paper orphans. Their kidnappers sell them to collectors or worse after forging documents saying that they got no living relatives. Sometimes they even get passed off as regular human kids and adopted by unknowing families. If you don't believe me, Hope, ask your mother - she is one."

"Hayley Marshall is a paper orphan?" Aidan frowns.

"Well, I certainly didn't rescue her from a Crescent civil war to let her grow up the way she did," he says. "I tried to protect her knowing there was a target on her back, but the same wolves that killed her parents got their hands on her again. For two decades I thought Andrea Labonair was dead until she walked into my town as Hayley Marshall."

Marcel sounds frustrated as he finishes the story. He tears down another flyer and stares at the photograph of Abby. Hope watches in silence, still shocked.

"Maybe we're looking at this wrong," she starts. "Maybe someone is trying to send the DeFleurs a message. Maybe some Crescent is still upset over the kidnapping of the Labonair heir."

"Or maybe one of the Crescents kidnapped that girl Madeline from the Paxons," Leah frowns. "And now it's an eye for an eye, a kid for a kid."

"That seems like a huge risk for a personal vendetta," Aidan adds. "Any wolf found guilty of a crime like that would be expelled from the pack - at best."

"Then do you have any other suggestions where we should be looking instead?"

"Well, Abby was taken from her room...which was locked," he reasons. "So do you think the kidnapper is somebody who had access to a room key?"

"Hope's right on this," Marcel concludes. "We _are_ looking at this wrong. We should be looking for suspects closer to home. A lot closer in fact."

"You mean the parents," Aidan pauses. "You think the DeFleurs are hiding something?"

"There's only one way to find out."

* * *

Someone has given poor Owen DeFleur a cup of coffee but he just stares at it and waits. When the door at last opens he stands, relieved to see his alpha.

"Thompson. _Finally_."

"Sorry for the delay," Aidan apologizes profusely. He shakes all the hands their are to shake in the room. "How you are, Emily?"

"How do you think I am?" she sobs.

"Right. I'm sorry. I cannot even imagine… "

Hope and Leah join them and Aidan quickly takes charge of introductions.

"Owen, you know my wife, but have you met my sister, Leah?"

"Hi," Leah takes his hand, "I'm here to help any way I can."

"Me too," Faith steps forward. She is drawn to the little girl clutching Owen's leg. "What is your name, princess?"

"My name is Grace. I'm looking for my sister..."

Grace hands Faith one of the flyers with Abby's face on it.

"When was that photo taken?" Leah asks.

"Just yesterday," says Owen. "We passed them out to everyone. We couldn't just sit still and do nothing."

"No one can. But look, we've got good people on your side and they'll search. My husband's commandeered half the Faction to comb the Ninth. He's probably compelled the whole police force too."

"Your husband?" Emily gasps. "Oh, God, you're the other hybrid, aren't you? And you're telling me you've got _the_ Elijah Mikaelson looking for my little girl?"

"He'll find her," Leah nods, slightly uncomfortable. Now she's making grand promises too.

"And all of us here won't rest until we have a lead," adds Aidan. "But we're going to need to work some magic of our own. This is a hotel right? What about security footage?"

"I'll get on that," Marcel volunteers.

"And where are we with employee interviews and background checks? Has someone contacted the witch Regent and the coven here in the Ninth?"

Hope is on it double speed. She zooms from the room just as Owen's wife starts crying.

"I can't believe that Abby's gone, and... and no one saw anything?" she sobs.

"It has to be someone who works here," Owen growls.

"We don't want to jump to any conclusions, but I can assure you we'll leave no stone unturned," Aidan promises.

He waves Leah in closer for a sidebar.

"Is it okay if I ask you to put your nose to the ground, see what you can sniff out?"

"Oh, you mean literally," she realizes, flashing her hybrid eyes. She turns to the parents sheepishly. It's a bit of an awkward request. "I'm, uh... I'm gonna need something of Abby's. Something with her scent."

Emily DeFleur moves around the room, searching through her little girl's things.

"Odd. Her, um, blanket and stuffed wolf must be with her because I can't find them..."

"Okay, then what about what she was wearing yesterday instead?"

"Uh, her sweatshirt," Owen recalls. "I'll get it."

"I'll go with you," Aidan trails after. He shares a concerned look with Leah on his way out.

* * *

Faith stands beside Leah in the lobby as they wait for Abby's sweatshirt.

"Are you really gonna try to sniff out the girl? Like a dog?"

"What? Think I'm half werewolf just for show?" Leah smiles. It's an uneasy moment, an unsure time. She caves and pulls Faith in for a hug. "If it was you, instead of that little girl who's gone missing, I'd like to think I'd be strong. I'd like to think I could still be standing on my own two feet just like Emily."

"In times like this you have family to be strong for you," says Faith.

"You sound just like your Dad," Leah notes proudly. "You really are growing up."

"You know, despite what Dad thinks, I'm already old enough to know the world isn't always a good place. When these kinds of things happen to other people... I know the kids usually aren't found."

"We aren't just other people though. This time will be different."

"I just can't believe Hope's mom was a paper orphan," Faith thinks.

"It honestly explains so much," Leah realizes. "And I feel like I've misjudged her all this time, not knowing what she went through. But she's tough as nails, that one. I just hope that little girl is too. The more I think Owen and Emily's nightmare can't get worse, the more I think..."

"Trafficking?" Faith guesses. She guesses right.

"I wish you never had to learn that word," Leah sighs. She suddenly feels very old.

There's a commotion by the door as Owen appears with Abby's sweatshirt.

"I'd like to join in your search. Please."

He's begging to tag along but Leah knows she'll be quicker alone.

"You know, actually, uh, I was hoping that you could stay here and help Faith retrace your family's steps from the orphanage to the hotel last night."

"Okay. I can do that," he agrees.

"I can do that too," Faith nods. She suddenly feels very old.

* * *

 **Some answers...many more questions. Who are you starting to suspect in all this? Join us next week for more clues and leave a review with your thoughts!**


	4. Act 3

**And we're back! This week, is our gang any closer to finding the truth?**

* * *

Aidan is comforting Emily, Abby's mom. He can't bring himself to question her or consider her a suspect. Not when she sits on the bed in tears.

"Marcel's right, isn't he?" she sobs. "This feels like an organized abduction."

"We're not ruling anything out. But you have to be strong. This may take some time..."

"What am I supposed to tell Grace, though? If Abby isn't back by tonight -"

"We'll find her," he promises, and for the moment that settles the matter. The two stare out across the room, eyes landing on the older sister. Aidan watches his wife move around the space with Grace. Hope is playing a game with her, so naturally, trying to distract the young girl from how serious everything has become.

"And this one?" she points. " _En francais,_ Grace? In French?"

"Lamp is ' _lumière_ ,' and book is ' _livre.'"_

"You are doing so good! Very good. _Très bien._ "

" _Merci,_ " the girl chuckles. Then suddenly she's sad. "When is Abby gonna come back?"

Hope works her way to the ground to look Grace in the eyes. "Well, we are here to help find her," she explains. "You see, someone has taken your sister."

"But why would somebody take her? She doesn't belong to them."

Hope looks to Aidan, unsure of what to say. Beside him, Emily starts crying. Again.

"Mama, you need a hug?" Grace says. She opens her arm up wide and runs up to her mother.

"Ooh, that's a good squeeze," Emily sniffles, hugging back. "Thank you, sweetie. Now why don't you go play with your games for a while. Mommy needs to talk to these nice people. They're gonna help us find Abby, okay?" She leads Grace away and helps her daughter get set up with a game, shuffling through her purse for her iPad.

"It's all my fault," she suddenly says.

"No, don't think that," Hope swoops in. "It's not."

"No, but it is. I wanted us to stay in a hotel to be closer to Samuel, then I went and lost my room key. I must have - it's not in my purse...it's no where! That's probably how someone got in and took Abby. Someone must have used it to get in here. It's the only way."

"That's not necessarily true," Aidan says. "Especially if magic was used."

"Why are you blaming the witches now?" Hope frowns. "You heard Marcel, this could have been wolves."

"Except I don't much like the suggestion that my own pack is criminal. And we haven't yet determined they are. I mean, if it wasn't magic, then tell me how someone snuck in here undetected?"

"He's right," Emily sobs. "I always wake up... ever since Grace was born. I think it's instinctual, a wolf thing maybe. I wake up at least once a night. But last night, I slept through, and now...now my baby's gone."

"Hey, hey, hey, this is not your fault, okay? It's not," Hope consoles her.

"But I keep wondering, 'why didn't Abby wake up or cry?'"

"I was wondering that too," Aidan lowers his voice. "Emily, I hate to ask...but is there something you might have left out of your story? Something you haven't told us yet?"

Emily doesn't look offended, just tired. And confused. She makes a show of thinking back in time then suddenly is on the verge of tears again.

"The medicine! Abby didn't wake up because I gave her the medicine for her allergies - she was sound asleep!"

Aidan raises his eyes, considering Marcel's suspicions.

"What did you give her?" he demands to know. Emily begins to search her purse again.

Nothing.

"It was _right_ here! A bottle of pills."

"And you can't find it now?"

"I swear, it was here in my bag," she insists. "Did the kidnappers take it with them? Wh-wh-why would they do that?"

There's a tense awkwardness in the room now. Aidan is worried about saying the wrong thing. Luckily his wife is always there to save him.

"It could be to look after her," Hope suggests sympathetically. "And if Abby's asleep, then she's not scared, right?"

Not for the first time, not for the last, Emily DeFleur starts to cry.

* * *

Aidan shuts the door softly and pulls Hope aside to talk quietly in the hallway.

"Well, that went about as well as it could have," he sighs. "Given the circumstances..."

"This was always my parents' nightmare," Hope nods. " And I finally see what all their fuss was about. This would be my nightmare too."

She leans into Aidan and he wraps his arms around her.

"The answers are here," he assures her. "We just haven't found them yet."

"But we checked though. There's no unlocked windows, no loose vents, forced entry..."

"There's also no extra security. Emily said that she lost her key. If it was stolen, then that means the kidnapper was close enough to the family to access Emily's bag. The door beeps when it's unlocked. Don't you think that would be too loud in the middle of the night?"

"Yeah," she nods, thinking hard. "So then, what if someone came in while the family was still at the orphanage?"

"They would have laid in wait for hours until everyone fell asleep. I mean, it's extreme, but so is taking Abby."

"Where would they hide?" Hope wonders. "No one could fit under the bed."

"But the closet," Aidan realizes. "It's huge and it could work."

"That takes a lot of patience."

"Yeah, and it's cliché. Like out of a movie or something. But maybe our answers have been hiding in plain sight all along."

* * *

Faith walks with Mr. DeFleur up to a building that leans slightly to the right. There's a window on the top floor broken in three places, and the gate in the front squeaks as they pass through catching up.

"Then Emily and I met back here," he continues. "We were both part of an aid program after Hurricane Katherine hit. And that's when we fell in love with the Ninth, the culture, and the strength of the people."

"It's the largest of the seventeen wards in New Orleans."

"Right. We always knew that we wanted to expand our family, but for years extra-coven adoptions were forbidden here. But after the witch plague last year, there were so many orphaned children, they really didn't have a choice."

"You know, I'm adopted too, from this very city. I'm truly being earnest when I say it's a beautiful thing what your family's doing."

They wait for a second by the building's broken gate until the front door flies right open.

"Papa! Papa! Papa! Papa!" a little boy runs up.

"Samuel!" Mr. DeFleur cries in delight. He snatches the boy up in his arms. A kindly woman approaches Faith and together they watch the happy moment from a distance.

"You must be Mama Sinclair, the head of the orphanage," Faith smiles. "Mr. DeFleur gave me your name."

"I am," the woman nods. "I heard about Abby. This is awful. Are you a detective? You look mighty young."

"I'm no detective. I'm just Faith Mikaelson."

"Well-named, Faith Mikaelson. Faith is what we all need right about now. I'm assuming you need something from me to help with the case?"

"Um, maybe. You wouldn't happen to have a complete list of all your employees and volunteers on hand, would you?"

"I had a feeling that's what you'd want," the woman says. "I'll get you that list, but I'll tell you now, no one here would do such an evil, evil thing."

"But just to confirm," Faith asks, taking notes down in her phone, "... Samuel had no living relatives, no aunts, uncles, siblings, anybody who'd want to punish the DeFleurs for adopting him? For taking him away from his coven?"

"You asking if Samuel's a paper orphan?" the woman frowns. "Well, don't - we don't do that business here. We don't sell our own when times get hard. Tell them - Samuel is not a paper orphan. I knew his parents, and sadly they died of the witch plague a year ago. He was the only one spared."

From inside the orphanage, someone shouts for Mama Sinclair.

"I'll get you that list," she tells Faith. "But you best focus on finding the real evildoers."

* * *

Marcel commandeers the computer at the hotel's front desk while Aidan hovers behind him.

"So there are no cameras near the DeFleurs' room, but I've pieced together what I can," he says. The security footage begins to play in grainy black and white.

Aidan scans the fuzzy images and frowns.

"Is anything standing out to you?"

"Not yet," says Marcel, but they continue to watch. Then one of the cleaning staff appears on screen, pushing a cart of linens. From under a mountains of sheets there's a tiny arm sticking out. The woman on the screen pauses to gently push it back.

"Stop the tape!" Aidan shouts. "There, _there_ \- look."

"Damn, you're right. That has to be the girl."

Aidan sucks in a deep breath just as his phone buzzes loudly.

"Did you find a lead?" Elijah is asking. "I can only keep this out of the news for so long."

"Maybe," Aidan admits. "Marcel and I got the kidnapper on tape. It's a woman."

"Werewolf? Witch?"

"Or human? Don't know. Just that she left the hotel grounds with Abby at 1:49 A.M. They were on foot, so they only could have gone so far before being seen."

"It's something," Elijah says, though not with much confidence. "But follow the lead. I need to check in with Leah -"

"Actually she's calling me now. I'll have her join our call. Leah, you're on with me and Elijah. Talk."

"Not good, guys. Really not good," she reports. "I picked up Abby's trail outside the hotel. It led me deep into the Lower Ninth - and God, it's still a ghost town here. There's also some bad magic this way, I can feel it."

"Is Faith with you?" Elijah asks, disquieted by what he hears. "Perhaps you should send her back where it's safe."

"She is back. Kinda. She's gathering intel with Owen."

"So no ones watching her?"

"Did I not just say she's with Owen?"

"Please, you two - not now," Aidan begs. Between Owen and Emily he can only handle so much parent angst. "Leah, just tell us what you see out there."

"Well, the roads are still like rivers. And all the damp is killing the scent; everything just smells like mold. But I think...I think I found something."

Leah's hybrid senses land her in trouble, but underneath all that trouble is the truth, she is sure. She bangs on a door with a big black X; it's marked in spray paint and means "stay out." The woman who answers shouts at her angrily in Creole, but Leah smells Abby everywhere, and all at once.

"Where is she?" she demands to know, but the woman just screams and makes the sign of the cross. She seems to be just as surprised as Leah to find anyone alive and kicking in this part of town. Testing a theory, Leah steps across the threshold. The house is condemned; she is able to enter with ease.

She pushes past the woman and races up the stairs. Elijah and Aidan are still on the phone. They demand to know what she sees. In the room in the back there is a child-sized bed. On the bed, on the pillow, is Abby's wolf.

"She was here," Leah pants, and she feels she wants to cry. "Abby was here. I found her doll. She was here, but she's gone, and _God dammit_." So close.

She angrily kicks at the bedpost and spins to face the door. There's something dark dripping down the back of it and now Leah wants to retch.

"Aidan...I think...I think I found another lead."

"A trail you can follow?"

"Yeah, definitely. It's blood."

* * *

 **Gulp. Let's cross our fingers for the best. Thanks for reading! Keep up your great theories and reviews and tune in next week to find out if you're right!**


	5. Act 4

Aidan ends the call and turns in relief to Hope.

"It's not human blood. So good news there. And more good news - there's a lot of it; we can track it to the source. Leah's widened her search."

"And I had my daywalkers check out the house," adds Marcel. "It's been condemned since Hurricane Arnold took out the whole area. The woman Leah ran into was stealing trinkets to sell for cash. Not a wolf, witch, or vamp - just a human surviving in the Ninth."

"So why would our kidnapper have taken Abby there?" Hope wonders. "What's in that area? There's no clean water, no electricity; it's not fit for children. You know, this is beginning to feel a lot less organized than we thought. Leaving the toy behind, fleeing on foot, stopping - none of this adds up to someone who's done this before."

"Exactly," Aidan nods. "It wasn't well-planned. They just disappeared on foot and needed to rest before walking off again. But why this particular place and not another house? None of these leads are telling us anything!"

"Except maybe they are...Look, first our kidnapper waited in a closet and then calmly walked Abby off the property, right? What does that tell us?"

"Patience," Marcel throws out. "The kidnapper's calm, despite the risk."

"Exactly! When Abby's arm slipped out of the linens, it didn't even faze the woman you caught on the security camera. They just tucked her back in... lovingly, even. And they brought along Abby's medicine, blanket, her stuffed animal - almost like they were comforting her..."

"So when does all of that lead us," Aidan frowns.

"Don't you realize? Our kidnapper is a mother," says Hope. She puts a heavy stress on the final word. Aidan looks at his wife, holding her gaze until Marcel breaks the tension.

"A mother with a screw loose? Never a good thing. Just ask Leah. Damn, ask any of the Originals for that matter. Mothers are lethal."

" _And_ protective," Hope intones, annoyed by Marcel's comment. "Abby and this house in the Lower Ninth must hold some sort of emotional, sentimental significance to the kidnapper. If we find the link we might find Abby."

"I hope you're right," Aidan swallows. He calls up his sister again.

* * *

The hairs on the back of Leah's neck prickle instinctively as she wades through the boggy yards behind the row of houses. She is following the faintest of scents, the smallest of leads. It sends her up a hill, the highest point in the Ninth.

At the very top is a wooden cross. There is no name anywhere to be seen.

"A pauper's grave," she reports back. "This hill is the only place around here to bury someone above the water line."

"Now give us the good news," Hope radios in.

"The good news is the dirt hasn't been disturbed. The grave's not fresh. There's no way Abby's in there. But guys..."

"What'd you find?"

"Abby's blanket, at the base of the cross. It's folded up carefully. What do we make of that?"

"Well, the grave is unmarked," Aidan recaps. "Which means it could be anyone's. According to records I've pulled from City Hall that area has seen flooding and much disease. Last year was the witch plague, an outbreak of cholera so called because it affected the poorest parts of New Orleans where voodoo is openly practiced."

"Voodoo you said?"

"Yeah, why - see a connection?"

"See it, smell it, touching it now." Leah pokes at what she's found under Abby's blanket.

It's a bloody, headless chicken.

"Hey, guys, I got the source of the blood from the house. Sending you a picture."

"Oh, _gross_ \- "

Hope recoils when the image comes through. The sight alone makes her nauseous. More nauseous.

"Looks like a religious ritual," Marcel says, taking one look. "A friend of mine is a healer who may be able to help determine which ritual it is."

"Well, hurry," Leah warns him. "Let's not let the next religious ritual around here be funeral rites for that little girl."

"Leah, send your photos to Marcel," Aidan delegates. "Now that we know this is an emotionally driven kidnapper, chances are she feels a bond with Abby. Which means the DeFleurs have seen her before. They just didn't know it. And, Marcel, can you please have your healer friend meet us here at the hotel?"

"You got it, Thompson."

"And Hope, babe, sit yourself down and rest. You're emotionally drained, I can tell. You've been max stressing all day."

"Of course I have! A little girl was kidnapped."

"But not _your_ little girl," he reminds her gently, taking her shoulders and calmly forcing her to sit. "Stay here until we can find out who's in this grave at least."

"That could take forever, Aidan. We're nearly 12 hours into Abby's abduction. We got to move on this."

"We are, we are," he nods and nods. "But Faith should be back with Owen soon and someone should keep an eye on her while Leah's out. My sister will have my head if I let her get in any trouble."

Hope sits back. She can't argue with that. _Mothers are protective._

She settles her hand on her stomach.

* * *

Elijah has failed to hold back the media forever. Owen and Faith return to the hotel to find it surrounded by press vans and reporters.

"DeFleur!" one shouts. He sticks a microphone in the poor man's face. "Our viewers would like to know how to help, but avoiding the media has made everyone suspicious."

"Suspicious?" Owen blanks. "We haven't been avoiding anyone - we've been busy looking for Abby!"

"Is it true the kidnapping may be politically motivated? Is the Mayor of New Orleans really running the case without the police? Is it also true you drugged your daughter before bed, making her more susceptible to the abduction?"

"Abby has... allergies. Wait. Who told you about the meds?"

"We had to do our own investigating since the authorities locked us out of the process," the reporter says. "We heard your wife gave her the medicine. Do you think she gave her too much?"

"Hey, hey," Faith steps in. She moves in front of the camera. "No more questions, okay? If you really want to help find Abby, put down your cameras and help."

"And who are you?" another reporter asks. "Are you Mr. DeFleur's representation?"

"I'm a seventeen year old girl, you leech, whadya think?"

The cameras swarm closer but Faith and Owen push through. They make it to the hotel lobby before the reporters are on them again.

Aidan steps in. He can't stand to let these men harass his friends and family.

"Is this what you want?" he says, confronting the cameras. "An official statement? Well, it's me, Aidan Thompson, your mayor, New Orleans, live from the Ninth stating this: I have two parents here who are living a nightmare. Grief is no stunt; terror is not a ploy. Now this is a sensitive case which is why media access has been limited. So go home - I have no further comments."

But one of the reporters pushes forward and pursues him.

"Mayor Thompson!" he clamors. "Do you have any leads? Have you questioned the parents? Are they considered suspects in the disappearance of Abby DeFleur?"

"They had nothing to do with their daughter's disappearance," Aidan insists, "and there will be no further questions."

"Just one more! One more! If Abby is found dead will this hurt your re-election?"

Aidan blinks in utter disbelief. Stunned. Revolted.

"What - how could you even think - ?"

"But at the very least, right, you agree the mother should be charged with negligence?"

" _That's enough_ ," Aidan demands. "Turn it off."

"Emily DeFleur drugged her daughter...!"

"Turn off your camera. Turn it off!"

Aidan turns his back on the reporter and tries to close the doors on the man. But the cameraman keeps rolling and grows even more aggressive. Fortunately Elijah has just arrived on the scene. He steps in, losing all patience, flashing in from the side, unseen and furious.

In a second the cameraman jumps as his expensive equipment is dashed to tiny bits on the hard cement. The reporter grows skittish as well as Elijah grabs his roughly by the shirt.

"Now, you listen to me," the Original says angrily. "While you're out here picking apart the parents of a missing child this family is in the middle of the worst thing that's ever happened to them, so I strongly suggest that you reconsider your reporting and find some humanity."

Faith watches from the doorway as the men run from her father.

* * *

Elijah catches up with Aidan outside the DeFleur's hotel room.

"Sorry about that," he says with a deep inhale. He's referring to the scene outside with the reporter.

"No, I appreciate what you did," says Aidan. "So do the DeFleurs."

"How's the mother holding up?"

"Well, she's still standing...but these accusations from the press have come down hard on her."

"You think she's up to being compelled?" Elijah suggests. "We can find out once and for all if she is hiding something."

"I don't know, but let's not," Aidan frowns. "That's nowhere near necessary. I know these people. They're not hiding a thing. Did you get the photos from Leah?"

Elijah slips his phone free and brings up the grisly images.

"This doesn't look like any ritual I've ever seen. Hopefully Marcel's mysterious 'healer' will have some insight."

"His name's Jean-Paul, and he's on his way."

"His name's Jean-Paul and he's here," a man enters. He's dressed in a dark suit, a mirror of Elijah's. His pocket square even matches his tie.

Elijah stares and pivots slowly.

"You are Marcel's contact?"

"Not what you were expecting for a witch doctor, eh? We're nothing to be afraid of."

"I have a wife who would disagree," Elijah smiles. "But we are grateful for your help."

"I am sorry it is needed. This little girl taken...I saw the flyers all over the city."

"Do you know why anyone would take her to this qgrave?" Aidan asks. He shows Jean-Paul Leah's image on his phone.

"Who is buried in here?" he asks grimly.

"That's what we're trying to figure out," says Elijah.

Jean-Paul takes the phone from Aidan and expands the image larger.

"Pauper's graves such as this," he points, "an offense to the witch ancestors. A body in a grave like this can never be consecrated, never find peace."

"So would that be why there's an animal sacrifice there?" Aidan wonders.

"Hmm, maybe," Jean-Paul thinks, "but a living child and sacrificial animal feels like conflicting ceremonies. And the girl, you say, is of wolfblood? So strange. Whoever has taken the girl is confused, which makes them incredibly dangerous."

"A mother with a screw loose," Aidan nods, remembering Marcel's words. "This is not looking good."

"We're desperate," Elijah admits, saying what no one will. "Jean-Paul, please, can you give us any hope of a lead?"

"Well, there is an ancient ritual one year and a day after the death of a loved one. It's to reclaim the spirit from ancestral waters and to elevate the spirit of the dead to a new spiritual evolution."

Aidan's mind is reeling.

" _From the waters we shall rise_..."

"Exactly," Jean-Paul nods.

"You mean this person thinks they can transfer a dead spirit into a new body?"

"Yes, but the ritual itself is dangerous. It requires the host body to be wrapped in linen before soaking them in water. Done in the wrong hands, it's led to drowning."

"That sounds like waterboarding," Aidan shivers.

"I would certainly never suggest practicing this with such a young person."

"So how much time do we have before Abby's physically endangered?"

"She was taken before sunrise, so this will be over before the next one," Jean-Paul says.

Elijah and Aidan share a look. Outside the sun is setting fast.

* * *

Hope catches Jean-Paul's attention before he leaves.

"Hi again," she says a little sheepishly. "Did not except to be seeing you again so soon."

"Outside my office, you mean?" he smiles. Understanding. "Even witch doctors make house calls, Ms. Mikaelson. Would you like to arrange for another appointment? I'd be happy to preform another confirmation spell for you."

"No, no!" Hope says hushed, glancing around almost nervously. "I mean, no thank you. No need. Everything is _quite_ confirmed."

"Then celebrate, Ms. Mikaelson," the witch doctor beams. "Even in this time of doubt there is certain joy in your future."

* * *

 **That's right, folks - it's time to pick out some baby names! Leave me a review with your suggestions and take your bet on when Hope will get around to telling Aidan! In less happy news...weird water rituals? Yikes! They better find Abby fast!**


	6. Act 5

**I'm still taking suggestions for baby names! Drop your ideas in a review. :)**

* * *

Elijah ends up compelling the other parent. Owen has volunteered himself.

"If it's likely I know the woman who kidnapped Abby, I want to know," he insists.

The Original nods, rolling up his sleeves.

"Then sit," he motions. "I need you to open your mind to me and let me guide you through this," he further explains. Owen nods, sitting on the bed's edge. His wife Emily bites her nails and watches from the doorway.

"Okay, what should I do?"

"First you need to block out the world," Elijah continues. He sets his hands on Owen's head, his voice soft with compassion. "Now close your eyes and let me in."

"How?"

"Simply relax, this will not hurt."

Owen nods, and exhales; a series of deep breaths. He closes his eyes and Elijah begins.

"Yesterday, did you wake up early?"

"Yes. Yes, I did," Owen starts to remember. "And... everyone was hungry, so we went downstairs for breakfast."

"Was it crowded?"

"No. It's a simple setup. We serve ourselves from a buffet bar."

"Then where did you go?"

"Then we walked to the orphanage. But the girls wanted to play, so we stopped for a few minutes, and then we kept... we kept..."

"Don't fight my influence," Elijah warns. "You're doing well, just breathe."

Owen nods. He speaks as if he's in a trance, eyes still closed. "Okay, I see my girls," he says. "Abby and Grace. They are happy. They are playing."

"Where are the girls playing?"

"In this little park near the orphanage."

"Show me what you saw," Elijah probes. He closes his eyes and now he sees what Owen sees. Bright sky, green grass. Children running, playing. Colors, and sights - but the memory's incomplete.

"Can you tell me, Owen, what did it smell like?"

"...Smell like?"

"I need every detail," Elijah patiently explains. "You have to help me see what you see."

"Um, well, then crayfish," Owen inhales. "And corn on the cob."

"And the sounds. Now add the sounds."

"Children laughing. Abby's voice. She is...upset."

"Why?" Elijah pushes him. Owen flinches in his mind.

"Abby dropped her rougarou, her wolf plush, and a woman handed it back to her."

"A woman...a mother? Did she have a child with her?"

"No - maybe. She was sitting on the bench. Just watching. Singing...something. In French, French Creole..."

"And what did Abby do when the woman handed her the wolf?"

"She said, uh... m _erci._ And then Abby ran over to me. But the woman kept staring at us. _Oh, God._ Is that her?"

Owen's eyes fly open and Elijah backs away.

"If it is, it's not much to go on."

"Then go back in my head," Owen begs. "And this time just take what we need! Please!"

Elijah looks conflicted. He glances to Owen's wife as if to ask permission.

"It will be...intrusive. It may very well hurt."

"It's our daughter," Emily says, and the conversation ends. Owen nods in agreement and Elijah nods as well. Without ceremony he is back in Owen's head, standing in the middle of that same little park. This time however, he is not a welcomed guest. The sky is dark and it's coming down in sheets. But the children are still playing in the rain. He watches again as Abby drops her toy, as the woman walks over and picks it up.

" _Merci_!" Abby squeals, and Elijah circles closer for a better look. The woman has a French manicure, a name tag with a French name -

 _Épiphanie_.

And there it is.

Elijah frees Owen, knowing what he now knows, and pulls out his phone. He is calling Marcel to inform him on the lead.

"Search the Ninth for an aesthetician named Épiphanie."

"Épiphanie? Like ' _une révélation_ '?" Marcel notes. "Ironic. Odd name."

"Yes, rare even in Lousiana Creole, so it should be easy enough to search. Text me an address as soon as you have one."

* * *

Elijah hangs up with Marcel just as Leah trudges up the front path. He hasn't seen her since this morning and her return is a relief. She is dirty, muddy, and beautiful as always. He moves in to remind her.

"Steer clear," she waves him off. "I'm gross and smell like dog. How's Faith though?"

"Sleuthing," he reveals, offering her his handkerchief. "She's helping Aidan and Marcel with the search."

Leah begins to clean off the mud from her hands with a scowl.

"Ugh, Marcel. Does anyone else see the irony of him working a kidnapping case?"

"Marcel has paid for his mistakes, just as we learn from them," Elijah says. "And after the way I witnessed Faith today stand down a wake of vulturous reporters I would not worry about keeping Marcel in his place," he adds with a smile.

Leah stares at him warily before handing back the handkerchief.

"Maybe you're right. Then again, is it really a _wake_ of vultures?"

Elijah laughs and nods.

"Come inside, let's get you cleaned up."

* * *

Inside, Hope is pacing anxiously in the hallway when her phone begins to vibrate. A message from her parents. They have heard the news and are on their way home, it says. _Tell Aidan too_ , her mother writes. _He'll want to know._

 _And call when you have the chance._

She doesn't. In fact, Hope shuts off her phone entirely and goes to find some tea to calm her nerves.

* * *

When the address from Marcel comes through, the Thompson siblings form a team. Together they take a jeep and drive deep into the Ninth.

"Faith is growing more and more into you everyday," Aidan mentions from behind the wheel.

"Oh, I know," Leah says. "Adventurous but stubborn. It drives Elijah insane."

"Well, double the trouble, right? I wish I had that kind of trouble in my life."

"You can always adopt," Leah eagerly reminds him. "The world is full of St. Ann's wanting homes."

"I know," Aidan says, but he grips the wheel tighter. "It's just Hope, you know her. She can't give up the dream. She's still hoping for a miracle, being a miracle herself."

"That she is. Though she'd probably be mad that we left her behind just to talk about her."

"Hope's been such a comfort to Abby's mother I didn't want to break them apart. It's just pure instinct with her. She always knows how to make the impossible seem possible."

"Then why should this time be any different? If the world needs anything it's more good ones like you and Hope."

Aidan goes quiet and focuses on the road.

"If only, right?" he says at length. "But if miracles really happened, Leah, one would have by now."

"Sorry," she apologizes, realizing she's made it weird. "Guess this whole kidnapping case has got me thinking about kids and paper orphans and such. I mean - you, me, Hope - we're all so lucky to have survived our childhoods being who we are, and the world takes so much from supernaturals like us that it's hard sometimes to appreciate what it gives back in return. But this world, this city - it's taken away more than enough children from their parents. Now it owes that debt to you and Hope, Aidan - to the DeFleurs too. It owes the next generation."

"Owes them what?" he wonders.

"A chance to live. To enjoy the happiness their parents fought for."

Aidan looks over at his sister thoughtfully. To think they were once chumps, barely adults, just two college kids without a care in the world. And now...

"I know I was late to the party," he confesses. "But I'm really lucky to have met you, Leah."

"Your secret half-witch half-sister? Funny how all that turned out."

"Well, however this day turns out, I just wanted you to know I appreciate you being here with me."

* * *

Aidan parks up on the curb and immediately he and Leah jump out.

"I think the salon's gonna be on that corner," she points. "According to Marcel the same man who employs our kidnapper owns the salon and runs a whole chain of them through the South. I'm willing to bet he runs more than that and has got something to hide. Now, where is this place?"

They wander forward cautiously. There's a man up ahead. When he sees them, he runs.

 _"Hey!_ Hey you, stop!"

Leah takes off full speed after the retreating figure but stops. Abruptly. There is gunfire. And it's aimed at her.

There's some smoke, then the man is gone, and she looks down to notice she's bleeding.

Aidan rushes forward.

"You hit?"

"Nicked - but holy hell, it _burns_. Like acid," she hisses painfully. "I think the bullet's been laced with wolfsbane."

"Then he _does_ know something," Aidan growls, and takes off after the shooter. In a flash he is chasing a shadow between buildings, but easily he overtakes the man. When he does, he is not gentle. "What do you know?" he shouts. "Why did you attack us?"

The man aims his gun but Aidan tosses it aside. He then notices the man keeps glancing at a loitering truck. When Leah arrives on the scene she immediately checks it out.

Breaking open the back, she finds the truck full of children.

Ten, six, four years of age.

Leah's stomach drops.

"Come on," she waves to them. "Come out, it's okay - you're safe now. I've got you."

The children all blink from the back of the truck, sliding into the sunlight. Some are quiet. Some are crying. Some thank her again and again.

"Where are you from?" she asks one of the older boys. He looks maybe twelve. At most, thirteen.

"Baton Rouge," he mumbles. "Why? Where are we now?"

Leah's heart breaks but she helps the boy down before pulling out her phone to call the authorities.

"I'm gonna get these kids in good hands," she tells Aidan. "You get that creep in jail."

"Psack!" the man spits. "Werewolf scum!"

"Oh, boy, not today," Aidan snarls. He shoves the man aggressively. "Start talking."

"Why should I help you?"

"Because it's men like you... the ones who hurt children... they never survive prison, that's why. And I know some powerful people who can make sure you get put away for life. So, I'll tell you what... you give me the names of all the people who work for your little werewolf puppy mill, and I'll see to it that you maybe last longer than a week in jail. That, and you also don't really have a choice."

Aidan flashes his eyes.

"So why don't we start with anyone named Épiphanie?"

"Don't know no Épiphanie."

"Then why's your truck of little children parked outside her job?"

At first the man says nothing. Then Aidan tightens his grip until the man chokes.

"Okay, okay," he pleads, gasping. "My cousin owns this building. Runs a trafficking ring from here to Dallas. Let's us hide kids in the basement sometimes."

"This building?" Aidan looks up. "And the salon on the first floor?"

"No, no, the salon only rents the space from him. But if you're looking for one of them hair and nail girls he can get you a list of home addresses. I swear."

Aidan looks over to Leah and she nods.

"I'll stay here with the kids," she says. "And tell Elijah we have a new lead. You just get that monster out of here."

* * *

 **One step forward, two steps back. See you next week! Reviews appreciated! :)**


	7. Act 6

**I'm dedicating this chapter to all those affected by Hurricane Matthew. From the waters may you rise.**

* * *

With Leah and Aidan no longer available, Elijah chooses Hope to join his team. It's a striking, but poignant revelation that his once baby niece, whom he fought for to bring home safe, was not only now grown up herself but fighting the same fight for another.

They are driving toward the address Aidan was able to drag from the trafficker, the man responsible for kidnapping dozens of werewolf children from their packs in the span of months. But Madeline Paxon, the heir of the Paxon wolves, is not among those rescued.

She would have been five next week.

"We won't fail," says Hope. She's thinking about Madeline, and Abby, and all the other children, sitting beside Elijah in the car with her hand tight across her stomach. She urges him to drive faster until the wheels of their car spin through the pot-holed streets of New Orleans as they race toward the city limits of Metairie.

"There just has to be a happy ending at the end of this road," she adds.

"We'll find her," Elijah says, looking over. "If not today, tomorrow. Eventually."

"No, it has to be today. Tonight. Jean-Paul said Abby could be undergoing some kind of ritual that could be fatal by sunrise. We need to hurry."

Elijah responds by working the accelerator.

"What did Marcel find out about the grave?" he then says.

"Graves," Hope reveals. "Plural. There were ten bodies on record having been buried on that hill after Hurricane Arnold, all male except one. Apparently that section of the city suffered a cholera outbreak a year ago."

"I see," Elijah nods. "And because of the extreme poverty, many of the victims were buried at the same time. In one grave. But who were they?"

"That's the problem; the remains are all likely deteriorated. Without digging them all up we may never know."

"And exhumation didn't quite make your agenda for today."

"It wasn't exactly how I planned to spend my Sunday, no. Of all the days when I just wanted a quiet evening at home with Aidan..."

"Quiet evenings don't exist in this family," Elijah sighs. "Just whatever brief pause there is between one crisis and the next. And speaking of - the others have gone quiet. I'm concerned. Has Leah contacted you with an update?"

"Let me check," Hope says, powering her phone back on. Sure enough, there's a screen full of notifications, of missed calls, and just as many messages.

"Guessing your phone died," she looks over to Elijah. "Because everyone and their mother has been trying to reach you and me."

There's a new message from her parents but Hope skips it to answer Leah first. There are so many urgent texts she decides simply to call.

"Leah, what's new?" she asks unsuspectingly. "Wait, what do you _mean_ is Faith with us?"

* * *

They're a bit on a tight schedule and yet here they are pulling over on the side of the road. Elijah exits the car with sleek, purposeful movements and Hope would not want to be Faith in this moment.

Yet Elijah has informed his niece, with no amusement whatsoever, that such stunts are nothing new. He opens the car's trunk and stares down at his daughter.

"Hello, Faith," he frowns.

"Dad, let me explain..."

"Up," he orders her. He grabs Faith's arm firmly, but gently, and easily lifts her free. Once she's out he slams the trunk closed.

"Now you can explain. What even were you thinking?"

"You wouldn't let me come otherwise!"

"So you elude Leah and contort yourself in the back of a car?"

"Well, what are you gonna do about it?" she quibbles. "You can't waste time driving me back, now can you?"

Elijah just stares at her.

"In," he eventually decides, gesturing Faith toward the back seat of the car. That's all he says; he's still mad. He joins Hope again at the wheel and shakes his head, restarting the engine.

"She gets that from you," Hope points out.

"I have no idea what you mean," Elijah smiles.

But he's frowning again as he catches Faith's eye through the rear-view mirror.

"When we get there, you're staying in the car."

"What? Why?!"

"Because it's dangerous."

"One woman and a four-year-old girl. Yeah, real dangerous," Faith grumbles.

Elijah is not convinced. He knows better. He's been thinking of his own mother - Leah's too - all day. Mothers can be careless. Mothers can be cruel.

Mothers are dangerous.

"If you want to make yourself useful," he tells her, "and prove to me you're ready to leave home and go to college, perhaps even to one in this very city, then you can prove to me now Faith that you understand and respect the forces at play in New Orleans."

"And stay in the car?"

"And stay in the car."

"Don't let it get you down, Faith," Hope says in solidarity. "Moms and Dads in this family are crazy overprotective. I myself had to stay in the car until I was...27...28? Point is, I was well an adult and my parents wouldn't let me go two feet without one of those kiddie-leashes."

"Hope is of course exaggerating," Elijah frowns.

"Am I?" she says, raising a brow. She then looks down. Three new texts have come in from her father. _Did you get our last message? Your mother wants to talk._

 _Have Thompson join._

Hope turns off her phone again. Elijah looks at her concerned.

"It's fine," she assures him. "Nothing that can't wait."

* * *

Elijah thinks Faith is being suspiciously quiet as she scrolls through her phone in silence. He's not all wrong.

"Whoa - you have to look at this,"' she springs forward. She shoves her phone at Hope, pointing at the screen. "So I was looking up burial records - _making myself useful_ \- and found something interesting. A certificate of death for a girl named Elsie, from the Ninth Ward, one year to the day. Mother's first name -"

"Épiphanie," Hope gasps, reading the report. "Faith, how did you find this?"

"Oh, you know, Google...and I stole your husband's log-in to break into City records."

Faith waves a yellow post-it note covered in Aidan's messy scrawl. Elijah can't say he's surprised.

"And she gets _that_ from Leah," he smirks.

"Then thank Leah because I think Faith has really found something," Hope realizes, reading down the rest of the page. "From the coroner's report Elsie, Épiphanie's daughter, had separation of her...symphysis pubis - whatever that is - and lacerations of the ligaments of her pubic bone...oh."

"Does that mean something to you?" Faith asks.

"In fact, yes - it means whoever this Elsie was, she had recently given birth."

"An interesting bit of trivia," Elijah adds idly. "I'm impressed by your knowledge. If not intrigued..."

"It's nothing," Hope says quickly, aiming to reroute any more questions. "I just watch a lot of medical dramas. Point is, Elsie was 15, 16 tops, when she died. So young...Must have been from complications for the birth. Wow, that's...that's terrible..."

"But useful to know," Faith points out, "for us, I mean. It helps us solve an important part of the case - the motive!"

"Motive? What exactly does knowing that this woman had a daughter tell us that we didn't already know?"

"It tells us we must exercise extreme caution," Elijah warns.

"But this Épiphanie isn't malicious," Hope insists. "She just wants her daughter back."

"Through a ritual that will likely lead to the death of Abigail DeFleur. Despite her motivations, Hope, this woman is willing to sacrifice an innocent child."

"But maybe not. Maybe she doesn't want Abby to die at all. Think about it, Elijah. She didn't take a human child, did she? No, because little human kids are weaker, vulnerable, likely to get sick."

"Thanks," Faith mutters from the back.

"You know what I mean," Hope continues. "Épiphanie took the daughter of two werewolves for her ritual because she wanted a healthy girl who had a higher chance of surviving."

"It's a possibility," Elijah says unconvinced.

"I'm just saying no one has to die today. Let's not go into this guns blazing for once."

Elijah continues to speed the car forward, lost in thought for a moment. Eventually his stern facade breaks and he smiles, turning to Hope.

"I agree. Such compassion and wisdom indeed."

Hope's face lights up for a second.

"That I learned from you."

* * *

The house Aidan's sent them to is half-swallowed by the bayou. The swampy trees make everything dark and on top of that night has fallen. Faith, for once, obeys without complaint, and watches anxiously from behind the driver's seat as Elijah and Hope circle the cottage.

The literal sound of crickets is nearly all that can be heard.

But above the hum of the bayou another sound comes through loud and clear. Sad, and plaintive, it rises up from the heart of the cottage like smoke from a dying flame.

Someone in singing. A woman. Inside.

She sings in French Creole, beautiful, but ensorcelling. Hope feels herself growing drowsy under the weight of the woman's spell, not true magic, just a lullaby to send a small child into a deep sleep...

Abby! Hope realizes. Abby is still alive. Maternal instinct drives her forward and she wants to barge through the door. But Elijah warns her that there's real magic afoot and urges her to stay alert.

"Be prepared for anything," he whispers, taking his position by the door.

Hope, nods, then holds her breath. The woman, unaware, is still singing her song.

"What's she doing?" she wonders as Elijah peers through the glass.

"I'm not...I'm not entirely certain..."

"Well, can you see Abby? Is she okay?"

When Elijah hesitates Hope steals a look herself, careful not to reveal her position as she glances through the window. There is a large metal basin in the center of the room, and from the way it glimmers in the candlelight Hope knows it's filled with water for the ritual. This is the water in which Abby is supposed to be baptized to allow a new sprit to inhabit her body. The woman has already prepared the girl for the ritual; she cradles Abby close, marking her forehead with odd symbols drawn in mud. Hope yet doubts that they truly mean anything. The symbols look like frenzied scrawls more than anything sinister or dark.

"I don't think this has to be a fight," she tells Elijah. "I have a feeling she's not going to resist."

"Let's not take that chance," he overrides her. He's positioned in front of the door.

"At my count..."

"No force," Hope begs. "Promise me."

Elijah holds her gaze, even now at this eleventh hour debating with himself. He had never the intention to let the kidnapper survive, and if he hesitates now for Hope then all her good intentions might lead them straight to a tragic end. If there was any risk to Abby's life it was not a risk worth taking. One day, when Hope might experience the joy of having another person, another soul, another life, look to her and call her mother, she would understand.

With one last look to Hope, Elijah counts to three, bares his fangs on two, and breaks down the door.

* * *

 **So tell me what you think. Is Hope too idealistic? Is Elijah in the wrong? What will they find on the other side of that door? Drop a review and let me know!**


	8. Act 7

**Yes, this is late AF. Enjoy the conclusion!**

The door comes down and the woman howls as Hope and Elijah break into the room. "Leave me and my baby alone!" she screams. She means Abby, the missing werewolf girl. The woman is holding her close, standing before a basin of water. There is candlelight in its reflection.

"Get away and let us be!" she repeats. "You aren't takin' my baby from me!"

"That's precisely why we are here," Elijah starts, but Hope calls for silence.

"I'll do this part," she says, hands up. She takes a quiet step closer. "Épiphanie?"

"You know my name?"

Another step. "We need you to put Abby down. Can you do that?"

But the woman is confused. "Who is Abby?" she wails. "No, no, only my Elsie."

Hope remains patient. Still. "The girl in your arms," she says. "Her name is Abby -"

 _"No, Abby. Only Elsie!"_

"Well, you tried," Elijah sighs, and the woman grows frustrated too. She is suddenly angry; suddenly violent.

"This is Elsie," she keeps saying. "See her beautiful soul?"

"Yes, let me see," Hope coos. "Hand me your beautiful girl and let me see her."

But the woman snaps and holds Abby over the water. "You get away from her! You stay away - you go!"

"We're not here to hurt you," Elijah explains, but Hope wishes her uncle had stayed in the car with Faith. The situation doesn't need his head-on approach. He is coming at it as a man; she must come at it as a mother.

She gestures again for Elijah to keep quiet. Then, three more steps, until her toes hit the metal tub. Until she can reach out and touch the woman's hands with her own.

"Why don't you tell me about Elsie?" Hope asks. "About your beautiful girl?"

"Oh, my poor daughter! How I prayed... that she had a better life."

"I hear you," Hope nods. "My parents prayed the same."

"And they lived with that hope?"

"In more ways than you know."

The woman's face softens. She looks down, rocking the child in her arms. She is crying. "Oh, my Elsie. They buried you in a grave with strangers. I had to get you back. You belong here with me. With your mama."

"I understand now," Hope says. And she does. "You are being a good mother - to Elsie. And I want to be a good mother too, you see? So let me see Elsie, how good you are to her. Let me hold her and see."

Épiphanie stills. Then slowly, she looks up. "But what are you, child? I sense all kinds of magic on you."

Hope nods. She means her. "I'm a wolf, just like Abby, but I mean neither of you harm."

"No," the woman says.

"No?"

"No, "she repeats. "Not 'on' you, 'in' you. And when your babies are beautiful too, you'll never want to let them go."

A shiver runs down Hope's back. "And I won't," she says, and she is crying too now. "I promise you I won't."

She reaches out her arm and Épiphanie opens up hers. As soon as Hope has Abby safe she quickly retreats. Elijah has a look of utter shock on his face and she knows exactly why.

"Let's get Abby home," she tells him, looking tired. "Everything else can wait."

* * *

The hotel is quiet. There are no more reporters. In the lobby, Owen and his wife sit, and wait, clutching each other, holding their daughter Grace.

Suddenly, the lobby is flooded with light. They're back.

"Oh thank God," Owen says, jumping up. "Please tell us..."

"...did you find her?" Emily asks.

Elijah just steps aside, smiling. Hoping is leading Abby through the double doors. .

"Mama!" the girl cries. Her parents smother her with kisses. "Mama, Daddy! Grace!"

Abby's big sister swallows her whole with hugs. "Everybody, everybody!" She excitedly waves. "This is my sister! My sister's come back!"

"Oh, this is your sister," Aidan says with a smile. He plays the part so well, kneeling to shake the little girl's hand. "Hello, Abby. It's nice to finally meet you. You were very brave."

"I know," Abby smiles.

Owen smiles too, at last. It has been a very long day. The longest day of his life. Emily too is unspeakably grateful. She looks around the room, to all the faces who helped bring Abby home. "Thank you, everyone, for finding her," she says. "You have no idea what you have done for our family."

Elijah and Leah share a look with Faith between them.

They know.

And now Hope knows too.

* * *

The next night, the DeFleurs tuck their children into bed for the night.

" _Bon_ nuit, Grace."

"Good night, Dad."

" _Bon_ nuit, Abby."

"Night, Daddy."

" _Bon_ nuit, Samuel."

" _Bon_ nuit, Mom and Dad."

Finally, they are all home.

* * *

"Happy Graduation, Faith!"

Everyone toasts as balloons rain down from the ceiling. Leah pours another round for the room then helps Hope set out the desserts.

"Wow. What army are you feeding?"

"I learned how to bake in only one size," she laughs. "Too much?"

"Just enough. We were right to bump up the celebration for Faith after all the drama these last two days. Any excuse to be a little closer to family is well worth it the food coma."

They turn to see Aidan welcoming the DeFleurs to the Compound.

"Thanks for coming, Owen. Emily. It means a lot."

"We wouldn't have missed it for the world, Thompson. And the girls miss Hope."

Graces run up to Hope with a handmade card: Merci, it says. The R is backward.

"Merci?" Hope asks.

"It means "thank you for saving my sister!" Grace laughs.

"Shh, shh!" Aidan hushes the room. He's turned up the volume on the TV. It's the same pushy reporter who Elijah scared away.

"And as a follow-up, I'm happy to report that Abby DeFleur was recovered unharmed and has been returned to her parents. Again, I would like to apologize, publicly, for my misleading and insensitive reporting during that case. In fact, the allergy medicine turned into a blessing as young Abby is reported to have slept through the ordeal until she was rescued."

"Good job, Team Mikaelson," Aidan hoots.

"Can we get shirts now?" Faith asks through a mouthful of chips.

"Slow down, kid. Save room for the cake."

Aidan smiles knowingly just as Hope returns from the kitchen with yet more food; this time. a gigantic sheet cake. The green and blue icing reads: Welcome Back to New Orleans!

Faith squeals. "Are those Tulane colors?! Does this mean...? "

"You can go," Elijah nods.

The squealing continues. "No way! For real? What made you change your mind?"

"You did, Faith. The day I adopted you, I... I remember thinking... 'She is gonna be something.' And who am I to stand in the way of Fate?"

"Also, I convinced him," Leah pipes up. "Let's just say, the last two days have made all of us see the light. Watching you grow up has been one of the great joys of my life, Faith."

"Our lives," adds Elijah. "And letting you go is... about the hardest thing I've ever done," he ends quietly.

"But that's how we know it's the right thing," says Leah. "Your father and I are so proud of you, Faith. No matter where you go, New Orleans or Boston, you'll always have a home. We love you more than you'll ever know."

"Thanks, Leah," she smiles. "And Dad. I love you both."

Aidan watches the family hug, not realizing Hope has a cake for him too. It's half pink and half blue and the icing spells: Surprise!

"I know it's more cake but I couldn't help myself," she says. "I was stress baking and didn't know how else to tell you."

"Tell me what?" Aidan stares. "What surprise comes in pink and - oh."

Hope figures her husband's finally got it when he clear faints to the floor.

Her parents owe her five dollars.

* * *

Owen comes into work the next week. It's the end of the day, several hours after 5, but there's still one office light on as always. He knocks on the boss's door.

"Working late?" he asks smiling. Aidan looks up from his desk.

"Owen, why are you here, you should be home with your family."

"I could ask you the same," the werewolf points out. "Congrats by the way. I heard the good news."

"Thanks, man, I'm still processing. I mean, talk about a surprise."

"You wait long enough and anything's possible in this town," Owen smiles. "Hey, tell Hope: Emily's dying to host the baby shower. She's been looking for a way to pay you both back for finding Abby."

"You don't have to -"

"We definitely do. No debate, we owe you and your family everything, Thompson. I'll even work your campaign for free to show my gratitude. Know come fall, no one's gonna fight harder for your re-election than this man right here."

"Sorry, mate," Aidan chuckles. "I'm afraid you'll have to settle on buying me a beer instead. I'm not running for re-election."

"For real? But the third term's the charm. What about your new plan to restore the Ninth?"

"I don't have to be Mayor to help people, but I can't be Mayor if I want to be there to help my family. And it's growing, man. It's growing strong."

Owen nods and clasps Aidan's shoulder.

"You're a good man, Thompson. Now come on, let's get home."

"Now that's a plan I heartily endorse."


End file.
